


Fancy Feasts and Fluffy Things

by Kyriadamorte



Series: The Epic Journey of Heaven's Most Adorable Angel and His Long-Suffering Brother [7]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Fluff, Gen, Kittens, Obligatory Kitten Fic, Post-8x10
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-18
Updated: 2013-01-18
Packaged: 2017-11-26 00:03:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 670
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/644376
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kyriadamorte/pseuds/Kyriadamorte
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel can already tell that this is going to be a problem.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fancy Feasts and Fluffy Things

**Author's Note:**

> WARNING: This fic is NOT in its final location in this series. The drabbles will be placed in chronological order between #3 and this fic until everything has been caught up. You have been warned.
> 
> No worries, though, because you need approximately zero backstory for this drabble to make sense.
> 
> This is the obligatory kitten fic. I hope you enjoy.

Castiel can already tell that this is going to be a problem.

Samandriel had found them that morning in a damp cardboard box labeled "FREE KITTEENZ" outside of a small church while returning from a “supplies run”. They appeared to be the only remaining kittens from what must have been a much larger litter. 

Castiel could guess why they hadn't been chosen. The smaller, orange one had been born without eyes and appeared somewhat sickly. Despite this, he feels his way to the edges of the box and tries to climb the sides in a futile (adorable) attempt at freedom. Apparently the humans passing by hadn't wanted to extend the effort to take care of him. 

The other one – who Castiel mentally refers to as "Dean” – is entirely black, with wide, questioning, green eyes. The nickname is inspired by more than just the slight physical resemblance. Castiel has noticed that "Dean" has the habit of pouncing on his smaller, orangier brother whenever it appears that he might succeed in his attempts to escape their cardboard haven of safety. It’s superstition, Castiel thinks, that has kept this little one from being chosen (which is utterly ridiculous, as it had been a specific batch of black cats, not the coloring in general that had been cursed, but humans were always terrible at these sorts of details).

Samandriel had taken one look at them both and been utterly smitten.

(Castiel cannot deny that they are, in fact, towards the top of the list of things he finds endearing and delightful. He has no doubt in his mind that, had he still been insane, both of them would have been immediately stowed in the warm inner pockets of his (Jimmy’s) trench-coat. He does not mention any of this to Samandriel.)

It doesn't help matters that Samandriel is obviously projecting onto the mewling, crying, balls of fur. ("Castiel, they're completely alone! They've been abandoned and separated from their brothers and sisters! They need our help!”)

Castiel eventually gave in when Samandriel had pointed out that temperatures would soon drop below freezing and it would be very unlikely that they would survive the night without aid.

Which is how Castiel had ended up in his current position. That is, with a black ball of fur curled up on his lap, purring contentedly, and a pile of cat food at his feet. He hadn't been quite sure which type to get (there were so many) so he'd simply bought two of each.

Samandriel has opened one of the Fancy Feasts (which looks neither fancy nor particularly feast-like in Castiel's opinion) and is sitting cross-legged on the floor, using his finger to try to feed the timid orange kitten, who sniffs suspiciously before taking a tentative lick.

“Look, Castiel! He’s eating!” exclaims Samandriel with delight (as if felines had not been managing this feat for millennia.)

“I can see that,” replies Castiel, not entirely sure what to say.

“Dean” appears to have seen as well, for hops off and trots over to sniff Samandriel before shoving his entire head into the can of “Tender Turkey Primavera.” He is eating far too quickly and will most likely make himself sick. (Castiel had encountered this phenomenon once during the unfortunate encounter with Famine. He has no desire to see Dean-the-cat undergo the same unpleasantness.)

“Dean,” he says in what he hopes is a commanding voice (his time with the Winchesters has made him question if had ever really mastered the proper intonation) “you must slow down. You will make yourself sick. Believe me, it will be most unpleasant. It is very likely that you will vomit.”

“You’ve named her?”

Samandriel appears to be delighted. Castiel is mortified.

“Um…well…he simply displays certain characteristics that I have found similar to those exhibited by…wait, her?” 

“Yes. That kitten is female. Didn’t you know?” says Samandriel, his gaze returning to the orange kitten, who has begun to eat in earnest.

Castiel picks up the kitten for examination.

Ah. Indeed she is.


End file.
